


At Last

by Hypoestes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypoestes/pseuds/Hypoestes
Summary: Jon and Arya, learning about their feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

“Thanks,” Jon said as Arya washed the glasses used by the others.

“No problem.”

He cleared the table and gathered the plates and cutlery.

“How was your week?”

She had already answered that question that evening, he knew, but it was different when Robb, Sansa and Bran were around. Now they could speak more openly.

Arya worked at a gym, teaching self-defense through various martial arts techniques. As Jon wiped crumbs off the table, she told him about a 10 year old, Lya, who was training for a competition. She was proud of the girl, but something in the way she spoke showed that she was worried about something else.

“Did you and Sandor fight again?” Jon asked.

“Yeah. Stubborn as a bull that one. It’ll take more time to convince him to expand the gym.”

“Your ideas are really unconventional. Not everyone can imagine dance and martial arts merge that well. Sandor must still be intrigued by that.”

“I know. And yet the demand for my classes only grows. I’m just too good.” She concluded laughing.

She started washing the plates, and Jon sided up to her with a towel to dry it.

“I was late today because Nymeria wouldn't stop barking at the other dogs on the street.”

“She's too like her owner. I told you to pick a more quiet dog.” He bumped her with his shoulder.

“But I love her!” She bumped him back with her hip. “Besides, we couldn’t let her and Ghost be separated, and you refused to adopt two dogs.”

He shook his head fondly and looked behind at the dogs playing in the living room.

She asked about his own week, she remembered he was working on a murder case and trying to solve it as quick as possible. He lost his smile.

“The man was her boyfriend, as we had suspected.”

“Jesus. Will domestic violence ever end?”

“You were right all along. The faster way to stop it is teaching women how to defend themselves and call for help.”

“That’s why I only teach women. Someday we’ll get our revenge.”

He looked at her, his lips in a thin line, jaw locked.

“Don’t look at me like that. I wasn't talking about that. And he won't teach or abuse anyone again, you made sure of that,” Arya said.

“No, but he should have gotten more than a reduced sentence,” he said, remembering finally locking H’ghar, the teacher who dared make a move on her when Arya was young, but not having enough proof to keep him there, since it had happened years before Jon had started working as a detective and there'd been no more victims he could find. Arya promised the man had only tried to touch her once, and she had broken his nose, but Jon's blood boiled with anger thinking of what could have happened.

“I need a smoke,” he said after a pause.

He grabed his coat and she put on her thick wool sweater and they stepped outside, on the small balcony. In the distance, they could hear the noise of cars and neighboors. They looked at each other from the corner of the eye as his Camel sizzled with every drag, the scent of smoke in the air.

“I never seem to be able to stop,” he said, contemplating the cigarette.

“Yeah, that thing will kill you,” she laughed, took it from his fingers and put it between her lips.

He looked at her, she was blowing smoke up in the night air, her eyes closed, short hair floating in the wind. Sometimes he got the strongest urge to kiss her. And then he'd immediately recoil.

They were cousins.

When they were children, they always spent their vacations together, along with her siblings, until he was 14 and she was 9. Later, he discovered his mother had fought with hers; Catelyn never had gotten along with Anna and that forced a separation on their family. Being from opposite sides of the country, they only met again when he had joined New York’s police academy, having moved to her city after his mother’s death so he could distance himself from his father.

He and Arya had a unique relationship. They understood each other, protected each other. They had been best friends when they were children, even though they spent the better part of the years apart. When they reunited it was impossible to separate them. They included her siblings in their adventures, but in the end they knew the best games were the ones they played together. And then, when she was nine, she had asked him to kiss her when they were saying goodbye. He didn’t, telling her she was too young and that cousins didn’t kiss. He wanted to kiss her, but he had been afraid at the time. If he knew that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again for many years, however, he probably would have kissed her as many times as she wanted, blaming his teenager impulses. They never mentioned that again though.

Recently, he and his cousins had begun meeting every week for dinner. After a while, they gradually reconnected. When he was the host, she made sure to arrive a little early and found some excuse to stay after the others had left. He did the same when it was her turn. He loved these moments, when it was just the two of them and they talked about more personal things, unlike when the others were around.

Since they lived close by, he and Arya had began meeting everyday, taking their dogs out walking. It wasn’t something they had planned, one day they’d simply met and then they continued meeting at the same time, in the evenings after work. One of those days she invited him up in her apartment and somewhere along the way it became a habit to spend a fair amount of time at her place.

They played with the dogs or watched a movie. Sometimes they made dinner together. Most of the time they read. He went through the notes he took for some case on his phone and she took it away from him when she’s heard him sighing one too many time. She read various feminist books while her toes casually slipped under his thigh. Sometimes she let him fall asleep on the couch and covered him with a down quilt. And he wondered if any other 20-something cousins had sleepovers.

He told himself he shouldn't overthink it. That the fact that this was the most meaninful relatioship he ever had (including Ygritte, by far) was normal. But, it’s like that game you play when you’re a kid, when you skip on the sidewalk and you can’t step on the lines otherwise some terrible thing will happen. You thread carefully but sometimes there’s a crack in the concrete and you can’t avoid it. And when you step on it you pretend it doesn’t count because it’s not a proper line.

“So... what did you think of the hair?” She had it cut that day and it was perfectly her. The dark-brown locks was now chin-lengh, with layers that made her neck look longer.

“You look beautiful,” he answered, reaching out to tuck a lock behind her ear.

And there it was again, the impulse to kiss her. The back of his fingers grazed her jaw. She kept her eyes downcast, she always felt uncomfortable with compliments. Maybe she felt uncomfortable now, with her cousin acting nothing like he should, his heart beating faster, that familiar feeling of longing unfurling inside it. So he ruffled her hair and tried to change the topic. It was a dangerous game indeed.

“Jon,” she interrupted him. When he turned to look at her, she kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jon," she said, and kissed him. Gently. Just a press of her lips to his, light and chaste. Just to ease herself into it, because it had been some time since she’d last kissed someone, or been kissed. She had forgotten how wonderfully warm and sweet it could be. And to kiss someone she really liked - someone she truly cared for... To kiss Jon, the man she-

He pulled back, his hand cupping her face, lips inches from her own. His breath ghosted on her lips, making her tremble deep down.

She waited for him to kiss her back, to pull her in between his legs, wrap his arms around her back, tangle his long fingers in her hair. But Jon didn’t do any of those things. He wrapped his arms around her, yes, but only to pull Arya into a tight hug.

He just… held her for a few moments. And even though she felt his heart beating faster, she finally understood. He meant no. He was saying no. He didn’t want-

"I, uh... I should take the trash out," he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

The next few minutes were a blur.

She didn’t recall saying goodbye or calling for Nymeria. Didn’t remember walking down the street. But somehow she’d ended up at her own apartment, heart clenching in her chest. She squeezed her eyes closed, wishing tears would fall. Wishing she wasn’t so confused, because of course he had rejected her. Hurt and humiliation aside, she shouldn’t have been so surprised, this was the only possible outcome and she should have predicted it before acting so stupidly.

The following days were a total blur too, she went about her usual routine completely numb. To make things worse, Jon went on being brutally kind to her, sending her messages all day long, day after day, asking if she was okay. He assumed she’d come down with a cold, since she hadn’t shown up for their daily meetings - yeah, she had a big case of ‘Jon’-itis and there was no cure for it except for memory-erasure or a time machine. She feigned illness to give herself time to think things through.

He showed up at her door two days later, bringing her soup. He acted as if nothing was wrong, other than her cold. As if he hadn’t rejected her. As if he didn’t know what was really bothering her. And that was what frightened her the most - the idea that he could ignore the turmoil he caused by refusing to cross that invisible line between being something vaguely more than cousins-who-were-best-friends, but definitely _less_ than anything else. She was so mad at herself. _He was her cousin for fuck’s sake!_ She should be grateful he was trying to prevent the awkwardness and perhaps even the destruction of the relationship they had. He had a right to be disgusted at her for throwing herself at him. 

And yet... she’d thought he would want her, even when no one else did.

On the fourth day since the kiss, Sansa appeared at the gym and dragged her to a club, despite Arya explaining she wasn’t in the mood. Her sister didn’t accept her refusal, saying Sandor had called, telling her that his business partner was moping and that she should do something about it. The club had been packed, and Arya knew they’d been lucky to even find a table to rest their drinks on. The fact that it was both precariously wobbly and so sticky that picking your glass up become a life or ruined outfit adventure with shots spilling haphazardly all over the place wasn’t feeling quite so fabulous. Sansa didn’t seem to mind, having chosen to canoodle in a dark corner with a random man.

She was about to leave when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. When she turned around, blue eyes arrested her and for a minute she was lost in a myriad of memories, of many ‘ifs’ and ‘could have beens’. Her old friend seemed to be thinking the same.

“Gendry!” she exclaimed, and moments later they were in each other’s arms, talking over each other’s questions and giggling together. More like shouting over the music. The strobe lights flashed into action, alternately plunging them into darkness, making Gendry blink in and out of sight in front of her, each time slightly closer as he leaned to speak near her ear.

She knew he was seeking something she probably couldn’t give. On the other hand, tonight was supposed to be about not thinking about the mess she’d made and if blue eyes and broad shoulders ended up being a decent distraction then all was well and good. She’d have to deal with the consequences later, she thought, reaching for her drink.

So she wasn’t surprised the next morning when she found herself with a pounding headache behind her temples and gazed on Gendry’s naked form beside her. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, a movement she immediately regretted as a wave of dizziness crashed over her. Arya took a few deep, measured breaths until her head stopped spinning, and cursed the invention of alcohol. Cursed herself for beeing so weak. She and Gendry had been friends for years, and while he had definitely showed interest in her, she had always thought they worked better as friends. Apparently drunk Arya had disagreed.

Painful tendrils of regret settled in her stomach. She didn’t want to lose Gendry too. She shouldn’t have used him to forget Jon. Arya was already confused by her feelings toward him and didn’t need another complication. Moreover, she couldn’t handle hurting another person that was important to her.

It wasn't long until Gendry woke, blinking sleepily until his eyes fell on her. “Morning,” he said.

“Hello,” she replied. “I’m so sorry,” she managed to say, trying to think about something to say that would help in this situation. But she didn’t manage to continue when she noticed the flash of panic and disappointment crossing his face. “For drooling onto you,” she added, trying to keep her face neutral. Gendry burst out laughing and Arya joined in after a few seconds. He didn’t seem to notice her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

He raised his hand to cup her cheek and gulped. “Can you stay?”

She thought she managed to keep the guilt from showing in her eyes. “Sure. As long as you want.”

He watched her for a second before his lips curled into a smile. “You know, that might be a while.”

_Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

Jon was about two seconds away from rising out of his chair and abruptly sending the object hurtling backward into the wall. If the imbecile across from him didn’t stop grinning like the the Joker, Jon couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. He rolled his shoulders back and laid his palms flat on the table’s surface. One more time, he was going to ask one more time.  
   
“And where were you when you received the phone call from your girlfriend?”  
   
“Honestly, it’s all so fuzzy.”  
   
Jon slowly pushed back from the table and stood without removing his hands, his head hanging between his arms. Just as he was about to shove the table forward into the bastard’s ribs, the interrogation room’s door slid open enough for a head to pop through.  
   
“Snow, outside.” Jon glared at Captain Mormont that was motioning with his head for him to leave the room.  
   
“I’ll be back, and when I am, I expect your memories to have cleared up significantly.” He stormed after the Captain that had disappeared.  
   
The other man was standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. Jon stared at him, waiting for an explanation as to why he had been interrupted. None came.  
   
“Is there something you needed, sir?”  
   
“Take a break, Snow.” The Captain’s eyes were too wise to be contested. Jon wanted to say he didn’t need a break, but he knew the other man wouldn’t have it. He stared at the Captain for a moment longer before heading toward the door with a nod.

Jon really needed a break. He needed a few minutes to himself, away from his desk. Maybe a real coffee instead of the mud they made at the station would help too. He didn’t even slip his suit jacket on as he left the building. Running his hand through his hair as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he sighed and headed toward the little shop a few blocks away.

He hadn’t been sleeping or eating well for nearly a week. Five days since he and Arya talked properly. It was time he tried to make amends. What if he was only exageratting? Maybe he read the signs wrong? But the way she’d looked at him when she’d kissed him… no, he hadn’t misread things, that was her intentionally kissing him.

If she didn’t bring it up, then he wouldn’t either, he resolved. If she wanted to forget about the whole thing, he was okay with that. He had to be okay with that, at least externally.

Internally, the indecision was tearing him apart. The craving to kiss her again, deeper, and the instinct to run before she left him empty and broken, tugged his heart in opposite directions. He found it more and more difficult to look at her or even think of her without evoking vivid memories of that kiss. The taste of her lips and the soft, warm curves pressed against him. Her soft little exhale into his mouth and the way she whispered his name before she’d kissed him.

A shiver rolled down his spine as he opened the door to the shop, and he let out a shaky breath.

No denying he wanted another kiss. And more than that.

But he hadn’t been sure that he could handle the repercussions that follow upon a physical relationship. It was what frightened him that night to the point of standing still. Nothing about their situation had changed, after all. How would they tell their family that they were together? How could she kiss him again after the adrenaline rush passed? He wouldn’t keep it together if she came to regret it.

He knew he hurt her by doing nothing. It took every little bit of control he had to not pull her in between his arms and kiss her with everything he had. But it was for the best that he hadn’t, he kept telling himself. He tried to give her space but it was hard, knowing she probably hated him a little. So he seeked her and tried to show he cared, even though both knew she wasn’t really sick. Maybe he could bring her something tonight. It had been too long and he couldn’t stand the silence between them. They needed to talk at least.  

He went back to the station and asked Edd to take over his case. Jon had been pulling some night shifts, so it was probably okay to leave early that day.

“Are you alright, Jon?” Sam asked as he passed by the IT guy.

“Yeah... thanks Sam,” Jon replied with a smile. He must have been looking like shit, he thought, his face lined with exhaustion and smelling so strongly of coffee people would think he’d been doused with it. He ought to take a shower before meeting Arya.

When he got home Ghost almost knocked him down to the floor.

“It seems I’ve neglected you a bit too. Sorry boy,” Jon said as he patted the dog’s head.

Jon’d showered, trimmed his beard, put on a shirt Arya gave him and by the time he was done he looked almost human again, with only his red eyes from lack of sleep to show how tired he was. It was seven by the time he finished getting ready, just in time to meet her at her place, she was probably just getting home.

As he walked to her building he replayed in his head the lines he’d deliver, his new resolution. That he didn’t bear to stay away for so long. That he’d do anything she wanted, nevermind the consequences.

He really wasn’t prepared for the sight he encountered.

It was hard to miss Arya Stark. Jon would recognize anywhere her short, dark hair, her signature oversized clothes, even her skinny arms, that were now wrapped around another man, their lips connected. His heart seemed to stop for a moment. _How could she_ , he thought, even though he had no right to.

He should run, turn around before she saw him. But it was too late, in the time it took his brain to stop denying what it was he was seeing, she’d already turned her head in his direction. Bracing himself, he walked towards her.

“... my cousin, Jon,” Arya was saying to the other man, that casually put his arm around her waist. Jon tried to unclench his jaw.

“Hey there,” the man said with a big smile, reaching out to shake Jon’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Jon replied, barely looking at him. He had quickly appraised this new person. With an angular jaw and blue eyes, he looked exactly as someone she would fall for. Instantly he didn't like the man. It felt instinctual. They shook hands, though without much warmth. 

“Jon, this is Gendry,” Arya said, giving him a funny look, almost defiant. Jon nodded, but kept looking at her.

In the awkward silence that followed, the three of them regarded each other. Well, he and Arya were looking at each other at least.

Gendry coughed. “We were going for a bite, why don’t you join us?”

Arya looked at Gendry as if he had two heads, and for that some sadistic part within him made him accept the invitation.

“Fine.” Jon smiled. He hoped he was able to give a damn smile, anyway, and said stiffly, “Shall we?”

He forced his features into a calm, composed expression as the trio walked down to the pizza place a few blocks over. Gendry was filling the silence with a running commentary about the establishment and Jon had the state of mind to reply with a few grunts and even fewer words.

When they arrived, Gendry excused himself to talk to the cook, a friend he called Hot Pie.

“What the hell Arya? Where did you pick this guy up?” he asked, no longer able to keep up the facade.

“Gendry and I have been friends for years. Us being together is just something that happened," she replied.

“It seems like a lot has happened in the past week,” he replied quickly seeing the man was returning to their table. Arya only frowned at him.

From what he had gleaned both on the walk and the conversation before ordering their meal, Gendry met Arya five years ago, through mutual friends in a protest. Gendry had tried to downplay it, but Arya had gushed about the anarchist group he was a part of, claiming he had opened her eyes to politics. A radiant smile had been plastered to her face when she explained to Jon that they would be handing pamphlets on a protest that would happen on the next week.

Jon was soon engaged on the conversation, explaining his views about the need to change the police academy so young recruits could learn the fundamental difference between power and authority or how to judiciously apply either. Soon he was the one she was looking proudly at.

“I recognize that, to some extent, the laws exist to maintain an existing power structure which is predatory and immoral, and that the police are the ground troops in enforcing this with violence. But on the other hand-“

His words caught up on his throat as he noticed Gendry had scooted closer to Arya, leaning over slightly so he could look at him. He stood so close to her that his lips grazed her shoulders.

Unable to partake in the conversation any longer, Jon excused himself, pushed back from the table and wandered out onto the back deck. He took in a deep lungful of cold air. The chill burned his chest and it felt like tiny needles piercing in his skin, but it was still preferable to sitting inside and watching Gendry drape his arm over Arya's shoulder. Watching him hold her close, drop kisses on her temple and give her that besotted look. All of those little acts that Arya accepted so easily from that man twisted the knife in Jon's gut.

Why had he agreed to come?

Well, the answer to that was easy. He wanted to see Arya. Even if it was hard to be here with her and the- whatever he was-, it was still infinitely better than not having her around at all. And he wanted to make her acknowledge that something had happened between them.

Well, she did acknowledge it, although not with words, but with looks and actions. That was a very Arya thing to do. But he wasn’t the only one she cared for, that much he knew.

The question was, could Jon take her back or was it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was too short and this one, too long. Hope you all like it anyway!   
> Thank you so much for the comments!!


	4. Chapter 4

Jon was jealous, that much was clear. 

The night they went for pizza she wondered how Gendry hadn’t noticed, or at least, hadn’t commented on his behaviour. Since the moment they shook hands, without much warmth, she noticed Jon displayed a look of unconcealed irritation lacing his features throghout the night, specially when Gendry got too close to her.  
At one point during the evening, he asked how she was.

“I’m fine,” she had managed to say. “Good. You?”

“Great. I just wanted to make sure you're not... mad… you know. Because of what happened. We’re still- okay?”

“Yes,” Arya had answered without missing a beat, forcing herself to smile. “We’re perfectly okay!” He had returned the smile, but it had seemed slightly stiff and awkward. He hadn’t believed her, she thought.

“It’s better this way, right? If we just put this behind us-” She had swallowed hard, to control the quiver that had threatened to creep into her voice. For good measure, she’d added, “Plus, I’m with Gendry now, I’m happy.”

“Right,” he had replied, frowning. “I know.”

And that had been the end of it. As Jon had leaned back, the noises of the other patrons eating and talking made her remember where she was. She had been glad when Gendry returned from the bathroom and stopped the discussion by asking Jon about his work.

Clearly, she and Jon were trying very hard to show they weren’t hurt. If the hurt were to show on her face, he’d know about her feelings, and their relationship would be irrevocably changed. She never had so much difficulty pretending before.

So it was a relief when he had excused himself a while later claiming an “early shift the next day”. She knew it was a lie then, but as she had looked up to see him putting on his coat, she had only looked away and replied with a soft “Bye.”

That had been two days ago. She missed him. And she was still mad at him. Jon was so stupid. Why did he have to go and reject her?

The reality was that Arya hadn’t ever contemplated the idea that one day she wouldn’t want to see him all the time, so being apart was rather hard. She’d been trying to distract herself of that loneliness in the gym, she hadn’t even seen Gendry since that day. This time it was Robb who came to drag her out for a lunch break.

“Hey,” he said, coming up to Arya making her stop hitting the punching bag, sweating profusely. “Sansa sent me to see if you were alive, she’s been calling you since yesterday - she’s in a bad mood.”

“So am I,” she retorted, annoyed, taking her gloves off.

“You coming to Sansa’s dinner tomorrow, then?” Robb asked, to the point. “She’s happy that her hostess day coincided with her birthday and that this time she won’t have to host a ‘boring’ dinner in her turn, wants us to all come help prepare her party.”

“Yeah,” Arya replied without enthusiasm, “it’s impossible to refuse her. Anyway, I’m going to take a quick shower and we can go have lunch.”

When she returned they walked to the restaurant. He asked why she was brooding and she told him about a couple of students whose parents made them drop Arya’s class.

“Did they say why?”

“It’s unlady-like,” she said with air quotes.

“Ouch.”

“No, but seriously, what did they expect? ‘Unlady-like’. We’re in the fucking 21st century.”

“At least you’ve plenty of students.”

Arya rolled her eyes at the platitude. She knew he cared, in his own, practical, way, even if his approach was more the cut the losses kind. She liked her big brother’s steadiness, calming like the ebb and flow of waves, always level-headed.

A few seconds of silence passed before he poked her in the ribs. She cracked a smile. When they fineshed lunch Arya was feeling a lot better.

*

The next day she and Robb were being bossed around by Sansa, helping with decorations. Bran and Jon were conspicuously late. Every now and then Arya would look at the door, anticipating the moment her cousin would arrive.

And then there he was, tall and windswept and shedding his coat as he came into Sansa’s living room - eyes sweeping across the room and settling upon her. She’d been in the midst of setting the table, but was now rooted to the spot, her gaze meeting his as soon as he entered.

“Hi,” she said, mouth suddenly dry.

“Hello, Arya,” he replied, eyes softening.

Her heart did a weird flip flop in her chest, and she made herself look away.

Dammit, why couldn’t she control the warmth she felt heating up her cheeks? She should act normal and talk to him, try to make amends, try to get things back to the way they were.

But then she remembered the pain she felt when he rejected her.

And then she remembered Gendry. She hadn’t even invited him to Sansa’s party.

“Arya, go get the glasses please,” Sansa asked, breaking through her thoughts.

The fancy glasses were inside a cabinet above the kitchen's sink, sitting far too high on the topmost shelf for Arya to reach. Standing on tiptoe, she stretched as far as she could, despite knowing it was a futile endeavour - she was far too short.

“Here,” Jon said, suddenly behind her, torso brushing against her shoulder blade. A much longer arm reached past her fingertips and plucked a couple off the top cabinet shelf. He laid them down in the sink besides them. Instead of moving away, however, he remained in the same position, lowering his arm and setting a palm on either side of her on the countertop.

“There you go,” he said to the top of her head.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Arya turned, thinking he would step away, but he didn’t. His chin tipped as he looked down at her. She swallowed, looking up under her eyelashes at him, and his gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes.

She broke their joined gaze, and hoped she didn't appear affected by his nearness. He could probably hear her heart beating from there, she thought ruefully.

They heard a loud noise in the living room, and just like that, Jon backed off, as suddenly as he’d approached.

“Um, I’ll get the rest,” he muttered, and she grabbed the chance to escape. It wasn't fair that she still wanted him so badly.

She couldn’t wait to leave, and paid little attention to what was happening in the party. Standing in a corner, she guiltily looked at her phone – Gendry had sent 30 texts in the last three days that she chose not to answer.

This couldn’t go on. She didn’t want to hurt him, but there wasn’t other choice. How could she keep dating him when she was so completely in love with someone else? Jon’s displays of jealousy and the way he stared at her excited her more than anything, more than any Gendry’s kisses and touches ever had. Her insides got all funny, all tingly and electric when Jon was near. And that wasn’t fair to Gendry, he deserved better.

‘Can you meet me?’ she finally texted him.

A warm hand wrapped around her arm and she looked down to see Bran giving her a curious look.

"All right, Arry?"

She had been searching for excuses, for any sort of opportunity to escape, but decided she had to be honest about this.

“Sorry, little brother. I- I’m going to break up with Gendry. It just isn’t working. So, uhm, can you cover for me?”

“Sansa’ll understand,” he nodded. “Go.”

Darting around him, quickly, she exited the door and went home to meet Gendry.

*

A couple of hours later, Arya was curled up on her sofa thinking about how selfish she had been. Gendry had left 20 minutes ago, and she thought it had been the right choice to break up now rather than later when he'd be more attached.

And then came a sharp knock on her door, breaking the silence of the flat. Nymeria, who had been sleeping next to her, barked but after sniffing the air curled into a tighter ball, going back to sleep.

It was after eleven pm. There was only one person who ever came around to visit her at this hour. Arya’s heart was galloping when she opened the door.

Jon was standing in the hallway awkwardly, looking conflicted.

“I wanted to talk,” he said.

She nodded, and let him inside, locking the door behind her.

He opened his mouth and shut it. Then he coughed and tried again.

“I overheard you. At the party. What you said to Bran.”

His voice had been low, that slightly raspy quality she loved so much had made her stomach tighten involuntarily, and she had found it difficult to look at him, much less speak.

She felt his arms wrap around her shoulders. It was amazing to feel him comfort her, they were best friends after all and she missed him so much that it ached. She slipped her arms around his waist and heard him sigh; he pulled her even closer so that her entire body was flush against his.

When they separated he asked, “Did he hurt you?”

“I hurt him,” she replied in a small voice. “He deserves better.”

"There isn't someone better than you. I should know, I missed you so much I-"

He snorted faintly, and avoided her eyes.

She stood uncertainly, wondering what she should do. She wanted to reach for him. She always wanted to touch him.

His eyes met hers as they stood there and—

They were kissing. She didn’t even know which of them moved, or if they both had.

He tasted of toothpaste, his hair was damp, fragrant with soap, he must have just taken a shower. She wanted to make him dirty again, smelling of her.

She shivered as his lips caressed hers. Jon's lips were soft but firm, hard and demanding. He opened his mouth and she slipped her tongue inside, running it slowly over his teeth first. His tongue met hers then and she sucked it into her mouth, delighting at the groan she tugged from his throat.

It was her turn to moan as he bit her bottom lip. His mouth travelled lower, nibbling along her jaw, sucking down her neck, licking her collarbone. She scratched his scalp, holding his head down to her skin.

Before she knew it he had her against the wall, as he kissed her so deeply she was gasping. He dragged his lips down her neck, along her collarbone, to her breast, to bite a nipple through the fabric. He caressed her thighs heavily, fingers digging in her flesh. He kneaded her bum, pulling her closer to press against his crotch. It felt as though he were trying to consume her.

When they finally broke apart, their clothing was all askew. Jon’s shirt was unbuttoned and half untucked, his hair was falling over his darkened eyes, and his lips were reddened and his cheeks faintly flushed. He looked roguish and sexy, and his eyes were locked on her as though he couldn’t tear them away. Arya wished she could take a picture of him, to prove to herself that he looked at her that way. She started pulling her shirt off and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.

“We should talk,” he said, voice hoarse, watching her half-dazed.

“I don’t want to talk. I want you.” 

She put her hand over his, pressing it into her center with a frustrated moan. His forehead fell to her shoulder, breathing hard. Every inch of her flesh called out for him. A second finger slid into her and she felt his thumb roll her over-sensitive nub gently. She bucked into his hand, her teeth at his neck. She struggled to open his belt and pants. When her fingers stroked his flesh, he gasped.

Still fingering her, he dipped his head down, and kissed along the swell of her breasts. As he kissed her, his other hand slid along the underside of her breast with featherlight touches, trailing his fingertips around the circumference but not touching her nipples until they began to ache and throb.

She bit her lip and arched. Begging wordlessly. She wanted him to squeeze her breasts, to drag his tongue up over the curves of them, wrap his burning mouth around her nipples and suck so hard she screamed under him. Instead he just kept teasing her. Exploring her slowly with his lips and hands. Noting the touches that she reacted to most intensely. As though she were an instrument he was learning to play.

She felt as though she must be. Under his observant ministrations she felt so taut she was nearly vibrating.

She made a keening sound in the back of her throat, and her pelvic muscles clenched, gushing more wetness over his fingers.

“Fuck!”

He hiked her up on the small table by the door and thrust in her at once. She gasped and her eyes rolled back briefly as she keened faintly. Her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, keeping him fully sheathed in. For the first time since his arrival, they looked into each other’s eyes without any sort of pretense. Twin ragged breaths passed their lips.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She laughed softly and rested her forehead against his. She could feel his cock pulsing in her, begging for relief, but he took his time to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, to caress her jaw, and to kiss her tenderly. She sighed contentedly, and only then did he start moving. A lazy pace at first, but his earlier fire quickly flared again.

He pounded into her and she threw her head back, knocking it on the wall behind her. He slid a hand up to tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back and meeting her eyes as he thrust into her, hard, fast.

He placed his hand where they were joined and rubbed tight circles with his thumb over her clit. Arya hiked her thighs higher on his hips, canting her pelvis for better access. She slipped her hands under his shirt and nuzzled his neck, seeking more skin contact.

“Oh god! Yes! Yes!"

He kissed her and she caught his face in her hands as she kissed him back.

“Fuck—,“ he groaned. “You’re so perfect,” he said, and pulled out of her. Arya had been right at the very brink, her eyes widened with shock.

“But! Wha—“

He shut her up with a kiss and replaced his cock with his fingers, curving them upwards, his thumb still at her clit. 

“Any objections?” he asked with a smirk.

“No, I’m good— Aah! Keep going.”

She cursed, clutching his shirt in her fists. They looked down, mesmerized by the rhythm of his fingers plunging in and out of her and by the obscene wet sound it produced.

He focused on her pleasure. As it built higher and higher, her back arched, her body increasingly strained and wired up. And then it started, her toes curled, her calves quivered, the tremors traveled up her thighs to her core and she shattered, the pleasurable spasms spreading through her whole lower abdomen.

It was—explosive. She clenched around him like a vise and nearly screamed from the sensation that ripped through every nerve in her body. Her fingernails sank into his shoulders.

She collapsed against him and he withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth. Then he dipped his head down, pressing a few kisses along her neck and occupied himself with running his hands possessively over every inch of her. She stared at his mouth, then at his cock, still hard and glistening with her juices.

"Bedroom,” she said. She stood on wobbly legs and guided him by the hand down the corridor.

Once in her bedroom, she pushed him to sit on the bed, regaining some control over the encounter. She sat astride him and removed what was left of their clothes. Finally, they were completely skin to skin, and they caressed each other’s chest and back. She’d barely had time to recover and was already kissing him again with uncompromising need. 

“Why don’t you lie back and let me do the work this time?” Arya suggested.

“Hard to resist that suggestion,” he said with a chuckle.

As she kissed him, she pushed him to lay down on the bed. With his cock nestled between her folds, she glided over him, spreading her wetness and rubbing her clit against the engorged head. Moving faster, she braced herself on his shoulders, eyes shut in pleasure. With a hand on the back of her neck, Jon pulled her down to him, growling through an urgent kiss.

Arya raised her hips and guided his cock, holding her breath as she sank down on him. She picked up where they’d left off with a frenetic pace. Her nails left little crescents on his chest and his teeth marked her skin. He grabbed her hips tightly, guiding her movements as he met her thrusts. Pleasure coiled inside of her, toes curling.

“Are you—?”

“Almost,” she whimpered.

She angled her hips differently, leaning back so he’d reach a better spot inside of her. Her head fell back with a throaty moan. Clumsy with lust, she suddenly realised: this is really happening. Jon tried to help her along, squeezing her breasts and touching her where they were joined, stealing a moan from her lips. It was too much yet never enough.

Swiftly, Jon rolled over her, and drove into her, holding her close. She wrapped her arms even tighter around him. They were both desperate, holding on to fall over the edge together.

She tensed and a deep moan rolled out of her as she arched against him. Waves of pleasure shot through her and her body was arching and shaking. As he felt her orgasm, he stopped holding back and his hips jerked spasmodically as he started to come. He collapsed on her, breathing heavily.

He groaned low in the back of his throat and it it was as though the sound set the nerves in her spine on fire.

They resettled under the sheets, Arya rested her head on Jon's chest. She sighed and melted. Her heart was still pounding from her orgasm. She let her eyes drift closed and relished it, so overwhelmed that she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It was probably a couple of hours before sunrise. Jon woke slowly, mulling over the last time he’d woken up with such a peaceful feeling. It was only when he started to serenely stretch out his limbs that he processed Arya’s presence in his arms, her back flush against his chest. _It’s one of those dreams._ Both of his arms were holding her close, one under her warm body while the other was draped across her waist and resting on her stomach. Her arms were folded into her chest, encircling his lower arm and hugging it to herself. His face was firmly planted in her hair, his lips pressed to the nape of her neck, one of her legs embedded between his. 

Mind foggy with sleep, he didn’t consider implications or consequences for a few moments, and just followed through with the impulse to burrow closer, drawing her fully against him. She shifted a little, slowly awakening, and he felt her fingers trail along his forearm to his hand, resting over it, keeping his palm where it lay on the bare skin of her stomach.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“The best,” he mumbled back, eyes still closed. He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “You’re so warm and soft.”

She wriggled, turning to face him. She trailed sleepy kisses up his neck to his jaw and then brought their mouths together.

The kiss was leisurely, both of them still in the slight haze of too-early morning, but they soon picked up the pace. As their kiss deepened, his hand tangled in her hair and she moaned into his mouth.

It was when she angled her hips closer that his mind caught up with what he was doing. A vivid memory of him thrusting into Arya’s body as she lay spread out under him, seizing with pleasure, springed to his mind and he simultaneously grew painfully hard and decidedly worried.

Hastily breaking the kiss, he turned onto his back, trying to catch his breath and to make sure his erection wasn't anywhere near her invitingly nude form. The more he tried not to think about it the more he began remembering. The breathy moans as he touched her. The way she had pulled him down to kiss her. The sensation of her hand, gripping him, guiding him inside her as she rode him.

“Jon?” she said, sounding so uncertain that he wanted to roll back to her and let her feel just how much he wanted this.

But they just - they just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice croaking out the words.

“I don’t - what? What just happened?”

“We shouldn’t be doing that.”

“But...” She sat up, giving him an incredulous look. “What about last night?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. But we can’t – you know we can’t - ”

“Oh no you don’t!” she growled. “I don’t care about what other people think, I just want to be with you. And you won’t convince me that you don’t want it either, not after last night.”

"We didn't even use protection!" he felt like he had been punched.

"I'm on the pill."

"What would happen if your family knew?"

"Our family! And I don't care."

Then they were just shouting. He didn’t even know what he was saying, and nothing she was yelling back was registering. All the frustration he’d been building up since their kiss fought its way out in incoherent curses and complaints, while Arya screamed back every insult she had in her sailor’s vocabulary. It was all just noise, growing louder and louder until something he said rang out while she was taking another breath.

“What?” she whispered. Her voice sounded hoarse already.

He paused for a moment to figure it out for himself and then he repeated it, “I said, ‘Don’t you know how hard this is?’ It feels like my heart is breaking every time I have to distance myself, every time I feel that you want me too. Do you know what is like to finally have something that you haven’t allowed yourself to admit that you want and then realise that you can’t keep it? Because you clearly haven’t thought about the repercusions, and it’s driving me mad because I don’t have the strength to fight it anymore!”  
Jon was heaving, and Arya was staring at him like he was an alien. It felt good to finally be honest. His whole body deflated so his voice came out very soft. “Right now all I can think about is kissing you.”

“So do it,” she whispered.

He’d dropped his gaze back to the bed, but at the words his head shot up. “Say that again.”

“Just kiss me, stupid. We’ll figure it out later, you don’t have to do it on your own.”

He dipped his head down and captured her lips with his. Arya made a pleased noise in the back of her throat and gripped his arm as she kissed him back, but pulled away after a few seconds.

“I don’t want you doing something you don’t wanna do, just to please me.”

His lips twitched slightly. “I’d like to please you,” he replied, lifting an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “Be honest with me, you’re giving me all this mixed signals.”

“Gods, Arya, if you knew how I’ve been dying to kiss you,” he muttered before pressing his mouth against hers again. He nipped her lips and then delved his tongue inside her mouth; sliding along and entwining it with hers as his hands roamed across her body. She gave breathy little whimpers and tugged at his hair, and it sent a shiver through his body and down to his cock.

She arched up pressing her lips against his and he sank down on top of her with a groan; feeling her curves moulding against his body.

He wanted to kiss her everywhere, so he pressed a kiss on the top of her left breast, over her heart. Then he kissed and licked her nipple, while his left hand began lightly kneading her right breast. He dropped feather light kisses in a trail from one breast to the other while he kept lightly fondling them. Then he finally caught her right nipple gently between his teeth, and curled his tongue against it.

"It scares me, you know," he murmured, as he dropped dozens of kisses on her aching nipple while his right hand continued to fondle and tease her left breast.

"Wh-what?" Her fingers swept through his hair, tightening around the strands as his tongue swept along the underside of her breast.

"How much I want to do all this," he clarified, lifting his head. He met her eyes, knowing that she would see how nervous he was. "I… shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want to - shouldn’t even think about it, but - " He dropped his head again, trailing his nose down her sternum as he shifted further down the bed. "I’ve been dreaming of this for ages, yet you're exceeding all my fantasies. And now I can’t get enough.”

She snorted and started to open her mouth in what was undoubtedly a retort, but he cut her off by lowering his mouth between her legs. He watched her face as he slid out his tongue and gave a long, slow, stroke against her swollen flesh. She arched up off the bed with a gasped moan and he pressed a hand against her abdomen to hold her in place as his tongue flicked out again and alternated between gentle suction and twirling pressure against her sensitive nub. He kissed it softly and then delved his tongue in deeper; sliding into her core and feeling her muscles flutter and clench in response. The heady smell of her arousal made his cock ache so insistently he shifted and pressed it against the edge of the bed.

He continued to tease her clit as he slowly sank a finger into her. She was slick, and molten, and gripped him like a vise as his tongue continued to play softly against the cluster of nerves under his tongue. After a minute he added a second finger and her moans grew louder, the grip she had on his hair bordering on a pleasurable pain. He moaned against her, and Arya’s hips bucked dangerously. When Jon found the spot inside of her that he wanted, he curled his fingers and pressed firmly inside her as he lashed his tongue firmly against her clit. He could feel her grow so taut she vibrated, and then made a choking sound before proceeding to shatter under him. She bucked and writhed and sobbed out her orgasm and then finally lay limp as he withdrew his hand from inside her and moved up her body.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She reached out and dragged his body against hers as she kissed him, hungrily. He growled against her lips and she shifted her legs to cradle him between her hips as he aligned himself and then sank into her with a sharp thrust; burying himself to the hilt.

He shifted his hips against her, groaning. Arya’s answering moan was like fire through his veins, and he shifted once again, thrusting and quickly finding a rhythm that soon had her clawing at his back and pressing kisses anywhere she could reach.

Suddenly there was a bang on the front door, followed by the doorbell ringing.

They jerked apart quickly and Arya stood from her bed, throwing on a robe. As she navigated across her bedroom floor, she tossed him a rather intent look that meant he should remain where he was, before she stepped though her bedroom doorway, shutting the door closed. Jon was on high alert, reluctant to stay behind, but since his pants and boxers remained in the living room he couldn’t follow. He listened as she unlocked the door and spoke with someone for a few minutes. By the sound of the murmurs it was Robb and Arya didn’t seem alarmed, so Jon tried to calm his frantic heart.

"Everything all right?" Jon asked when she returned after her brother left.

"Yeah, apparently my habit of forgetting to answer the phone -or rather, my habit of forgetting to charge it, which doesn't apply today- is more annoying than coming in person to delivery a message."

"What message?"

“It’s uncle Benjen,” she said. “Robb came by to tell me we’re all going to brunch together in a few hours since uncle’s off traveling again. To Alaska this time. Might be gone a while.”

“Uncle Benjen never disappoints with his spiritual pilgrimages,” Jon replied feeling a lot calmer. “No doubt he’ll come back with amazing stories about the Alaskan wilderness.”

“Yeah, well, I told Robb I’d contact you to make sure you were going too,” she said raising an eyebrow.

“He didn’t sound – suspitious that I was here or-“

“Of course not,” she interrupted. “I’m telling you, it won’t be so hard to pretend that we’re not together, you don’t have to worry.”

“Got it.” Smiling slightly to cover the disappointment gathering in the pit of his stomach, Jon stood, closing the buttons on his shirt. “Better get home, to feed Ghost and take a shower before heading there.”

“You sound unconvinced,” Arya said, rising to her feet. She pulled his head down and kissed him languidly. They both let out soft sighs, loving the feel of each other. “But don’t worry, you’ll see I’m right.”

*

Brunch turned out to be one of the most uncomfortables experiences of his life. It happened at Stark's house at Westchester, a place he regarded with mixed feelings.

Being around Catelyn had always been difficult, he seemed to have inherited the resentment that she had nurtured for his mother when she was alive. Whenever the conversation turned to him he waited for her to make some derisive comment, but instead she went quiet or made a passive-aggressive comment about his job. Normally that wouldn't bother him, he was used to her unpleasantness, but now that he found himself losing track of conversations because he was daydreaming about Arya, he was sure that Catelyn would somehow read his mind and stab him with the butter knife.

Seated around the dining room table, a tight knot forming in his gut, Jon tried very hard not to stare at Arya's smiles, Arya's collarbones, Arya's neck.

Bran and Sansa took turns asking uncle Benjen the details of his trip, both listening with rapt attention to his planned route. Arya and her mother contributed with fewer questions.

Jon tried to engage in conversation with his uncle Ned and Robb, who were talking about the younger man's girlfriend, but ended up picking at his food and keeping careful eyes on everyone, feeling horribly guilty and realizing gloomily that Arya wouldn't receive the same support from her father if he knew of their relationship.

"Don't you agree, Jon?" Bran asked at the other end of the table, bringing him back to the present.

"Sorry, what?" He said and noticed uncle Benjen was giving him a smile that made Jon feel like a beetle under a magnifying glass, being inspected and seen through.

"So, Arya," Sansa interrupted impatiently, "tell us about your break up."

"Arya was dating someone? Do I know him?" Catelyn asked.

Arya choked on her drink. After a round of coughing, she was finally able to speak. "It- it's not important. It was only for a few days and it wasn't working. What about you, Bran, aren't you going out with Jojen?" she asked managing to divert attention to her blushing brother.

Her eyes met Jon's across the table, and he tried to look calm.

After eating, everyone congragated outside for a walk around the estate, to see the garden and the lake, but soon the young adults seemed to want to reminisce about specific parts of their childhood home and neighborhood, since they didn't visit as much as they'd like to, and the group dissipated.

He stayed talking to his uncles, but after a few more torturous minutes of idle chit-chat, during wich the two of them decided to watch a game that was about to start, he headed to the shed where his uncle stored gardening tools and had housed a number of adventures for Jon and Arya's childhood when they wanted to play only by themselves. Nobody had ever looked for them there.

Jons stopped with his hand on the door and he had to remind himself to step forward. He closed the door and locked it, oddly grateful that the key was in it.

Arya had been leaning over the workbench, looking tired, but she turned at the sound of someone entering.

They stared at one another in heavy, trickling silence.

"Oh." Her face crumpled. "You're giving up."

He didn't want her to keep the expression of hurt on her face, so Jon quickly walked to her and pressed up behind her, his mouth at her ear.

"You're not getting rid of me this easily. We'll find a way."

"Yeah right," she was whispering through clenched teeth. "I was watching you all day, how long do you think you'll be able to keep pretending? I don't want you to be uncomfortable around your own family..."

"I don't care." He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear.

"Yes, you do! Jon, don't..." But she sagged back against him, letting him hold her up with one arm around her waist.

He glanced back at the shed's door and then leaned down, kissing her because he couldn't stand not to be touching her right now. He cupped her cheek and cradled the back of her head, trying to let her know everything he couldn't say. She arched her neck to meet him, gasping softly against his mouth, but then she pulled back, her eyes on the door.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses bumping, and he hoped she knew what he meant when he said in a low voice at her ear, “We should go back inside.” Hoped she knew that he would much prefer to continue, to slip his hand beneath her dress and stroke her where she was wet and wanting. It’d be so easy; he could move aside her panties and slide his fingers into her; drop to his knees and take care of her with his mouth, too. Taste her and make her come and kiss her until she was dizzy, then take her home and make love to her in the first bed they came across.

He decided in a split second that she probably wouldn’t, in fact, get all that information from his simple sentence, so he voiced these thoughts too, something he had once vowed to himself he’d never do, whispering it all to her as she grabbed his bum for leverage and rubbed him against her.

Later, he’d probably be mortified by all this; saying filthy things to his cousin so close to where their family was all gathered. But for now, all he could really think about was the indescribable pleasure of Arya Stark writhing in his arms.

“If you want to do all that so badly,” Arya whimpered, clutching at him tightly, “You can, you know. No one will know.” She grinned, and kissed him, and sucked on his bottom lip before continuing, “I mean, we’ve got this far.”

She gave a breathy laugh, and he lifting her up onto the sturdy wooden table. How could anyone resist that laugh. He kissed her again, deeply, and she was holding onto his shoulders so hard that he thought, he hoped, that she’d be leaving little bruises there. Evidence.

That thought sobbered him up. He shouldn’t be thrusting against her; if anyone passed by it wouldn’t be too hard to figure their activities out, despite their attempts to keep quiet. He slowed his hips to a stop and looked down between them, ignoring her moan of protest. Her dress was up around her waist, his hands already on their way to her breasts, which he couldn’t even remember doing. They’d been grinding against one another shamelessly, his trousers were already damp from where she’d rubbed herself against him.

“Besides,” she murmured, irrespective of his slowed movements, her breath catching as she arched her neck. “You’re gonna make me come in a second anyway, just like this.” Her hips jerked against his deliberately. “Do you think it means any less just ‘cause I’ve still got my clothes on?”

It was hard to diagree with her argument. They’d gone too far already, and it was unlikely that anyone would find it strange that they weren't around.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He caught her eye, and his hand wandered to the front of her underwear as he made his suggestion. “Is this what you want?”

“You know what?” she whispered, shaking her head. “Fuck it, we'll do that later.”

He liked her confidence there would be a later. To be honest, he knew she was right. Of course she was right. He couldn’t keep away from her if he tried. Clearly.

“Hurry, come here…” Her fingers slipped to the zip of his trousers, and he hissed in a breath as she lightly touched him through the fabric. She glanced towards door, but he knew that it’d still be closed, there hadn't been a sound except for their heavy breathing.

At his nod, she unzipped his trousers. Before leaving home he had put a couple of condoms in his wallet, wich he now remembered and took one out. She grabbed it and used her teeth to tear open the packet, rolling it on him, stroking once, twice, as he growled and kissed her. He hoisted her up further so that she could line them up.

“Wait, just hold my panties to the side,” she requested matter-of-factly, and he chuckled and did as she asked.

He soon stopped laughing when he slowly slid into her.

“Oh, fuck,” Arya gasped, which were his sentiments exactly.

He needed a moment before he could start moving, and she wriggled against him impatiently. He giggled into her neck, because that bossiness was so her and she felt-

“Jon. Move,” she demanded, which he liked, a lot, and happily obliged.

It was going to be over quickly, he knew that, she knew that, and he just hoped that it was long enough for her to feel as good as he did. Though this wasn't the place for indulging in experimentation, he delighted in the way she let out a surprised gasp when he brought her closer to the edge, tilting her back for a better angle.

It was good, all of it - the way her legs were wrapped around him, the taste of her sweat when he kissed her throat, the desperate, wet, lip-smashing kiss when he moved his mouth to hers.

There was noise, it was unavoidable, but as he put his hands on the desk top, the wobbling became limited.

He kissed her hard as he felt her hand sneak in between them, teasing him then touching herself, fingers moving in fast circles over her clit. When she groaned against his lips, his hips stuttered.

Nearly silent again he slowly began drawing back and slaming home, in long, determined strokes, ones that made her pant and swear alternately, the words so soft even he could barely hear. 

Moments later, her head tilted back, her mouth falling open and her breath hitching. He watched, adoring the sight, as she came apart in his arms, clutching at his shoulders and clenching around him. He almost laughed, giddy with it all, but her abandon was enough to push him over the edge, and he came in bursts deep within her as she tightened around him, kissing her neck and jaw and cheek. His hips slowed, and he stood there for a minute, still wrapped up in her, catching his breath, strands of her hair tickling his nose.

Truthfully, he never wanted to let her go.

She melted into his arms with a sigh as he said, "At some point we'll have to face this inability to keep our hands off each other." His lips trailed down her neck.

"But not now," she replied breathlessly. "For now, this is perfect."

"I blame the pent-up lust on my part."

She bursted into laughter.

He smiled warmly at her and lifted his lips to place a tender kiss on her forehead. When their hearts had slowed they unraveled from each other, and he succeeded in drawing a tiny whimper from Arya as he left her body. Only the thought of the incredibly inappropriate place they were kept him from taking her again. He helped her up, and they began pulling their scattered clothes back on, stealing kisses in between fits of giggling.

Arya finished tugging her skirt down and smoothed her hands over her hair and shirt, "Let's go back," she whispered, sounding reluctant. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice when he agreed.

They decided to walk to the house separately, she wanted to get a flower on the garden before going back. He was almost at the entrance when he heard her.

"Wait." She rushed to his side. "You should put your jacket on," she said, and he thought she was the one worrying too much. She must have liked that jacket, though, since her eyes were a dark grey as he did as she asked and she buttoned two of the buttons for him.

"What's going on here?" They jerked apart at Catelyn's voice.

Many times at work Jon's body had engaged in a fight or flight response. It saved his life more times that he could count. So it was a testiment to his state of mind that his gut was telling him on that moment to react to the threat.

He turned to face the older woman and was sure the little act of intimacy Arya had demonstrated had already busted them. Scandal and disapproaval were already carved deep into Catelyn's features.

"What do you mean?" Arya asked innocently, her face a mask. Jon wondered where she learned how to do that.

"You two seemed a little too close, a little too comfortable," Catelyn said suspiciously.

Arya simply shrugged. "I like Jon very much, I thought I'd save him from one of your delightful comments by adjusting his clothes. Guess that backfired."

"Watch your tongue young lady," Catelyn scowled. "And you! You've always been a bad influence on her. You're just like your mother, thinking that you can do anything you want and we have to accept it under the guise of being your family."

Jon felt like his heart was clenching, his pulse thundering in his ear.

"Stop it!" Arya interjected "What is wrong with you? I don't know what happened between you and aunt Anna but you have to stop doing this to Jon, he has nothing to do with it. He _IS_ my family and I'll stand by him."

Not saying another word, Catelyn shot them one last measured look before heading inside. He glanced at Arya and her eyes were focused on him, suspiciously moist in the bright sunlight.

The damage was done.


End file.
